Becky's Story
by Lady Trueword
Summary: What happened to Becky after she was adopted by Captain Crewe? A fanfic based on the 1995 movie. I disclaim all ownership of any characters from the movie or book, "A Little Princess."
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Retelling the Story**

Becky looked out the window of her New York penthouse. So much had changed in the city since her childhood! After a life spent living abroad, the sights and sounds of the Big Apple felt both remote and strangely familiar to her.

"I must finish my letter to Maggie," she told herself as she sat down at her mahogany desk. Taking a sheet of thick, creamy paper and her favorite pen, she wrote in an elegant cursive script to her niece.

_May 20, 1970_

_To: Margaret Graham_

_From: Rebecca Williams Crewe _

_My dearest Maggie,_

_I received your request in your last letter to me, and I would be delighted to add my personal story to the Crewe family archive you are presently compiling. Enclosed are some of my personal notes which I penned for my memoirs. I apologize as these are but drafts, which I hope to edit and publish in the future. But I hope they may be of use to you. I will send you more material as needed. _

_You have probably already collected quite a few newspaper and magazine clippings about me, but most of them focus on my career accomplishments rather than on my personal history. I hope to give you a glimpse into my childhood, when all of those wonderful things happened to me and your mother at Miss Minchin's school and beyond. It was by God's grace that I met your mother and then your grandfather, and we became a family._

_I look forward to your visit next week. Please give your parents my regards._

_With much love,_

_Your Aunt Becky_

_Excerpts enclosed_

**Excerpt: Reunion**

I don't know how long I stood in that rainy torrent on the terrible night when Sara and I were falsely accused by Miss Minchin and arrested. As I waited outside Mr. Randolph's house, two policemen held me fast. They seemed just as frightened of me as I was of them.

Suddenly Sara's voice pierced through the din of the storm, and I heard her screaming and pleading with someone inside.

"No! No! Papa!" she shrieked. "Pa...pa!"

As the police dragged her outside, my heart boiled with indignation at the injustice. I strained myself against arms of steel to no avail. I could only watch helplessly as everything unfolded before my eyes. To think that we might have gone from Miss Minchin's attic prison to a jail cell, and all because she thought we stole the magic! It was truly our lowest moment.

But then the magic came back, and another wonderful thing happened. A man ran outside just in the nick of time.

"Sara!"

His anguished cry stunned us all. Almost instantly the police released Sara and she rushed into his arms. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was the spitting image of the man in Sara's locket, the man I called "The Captain." He swept his daughter into his arms and wept as he held her tight. It was a miracle.

"Papa, don't ever leave me!" she begged him.

"I love you," he declared between sobs. Not until later did I learn of Sara's harrowing moments with him just before he remembered her, or of Miss Minchin's dishonesty in calling her a fatherless child.

Miss Minchin slunk away, and I struggled free to watch Sara and her papa's tearful reunion. Maybe, I hoped, just maybe, Sara might let me stay with her as her maid. I did not wonder long, for although her face was still buried in her father's chest, Sara extended an arm out to me. I didn't hesitate and I flew straight towards them, like an arrow to its target.

"Dad!" I cried.

I still don't know to this day what possessed me to call him "dad". But The Captain seemed like the type of man who would naturally be called "dad" by every child who ever knew him. He didn't seem to mind, and put his arm around me as well. I suppose he was too caught up in his joy to notice that he was embracing a stranger, and I expected nothing else from him. But a shiver ran down my spine when I felt a soft kiss on my head.

"Could it be?" I wondered. Behind us, Ram Dass gave a hearty laugh of happiness.

I cherished our long embrace until at last the three of us separated. All that remained of the cops was one officer who cautiously approached us.

"Excuse me, I'm Officer Tom Brown. If you don't mind, I need to ask you a few questions to complete my report."

"By all means, come in, come in," urged Mr. Randolph. "We're all getting soaked out here."

We filed into his wonderfully inviting house, where Ram Dass gave us blankets and hot cocoa. As I soaked in warmth from the fireplace, I listened to The Captain tell Officer Brown who he was and how he had lost his memory during the war. Sara sat on his knee and helped him recall details about his life, to Mr. Randolph's delight. When Officer Brown asked about Miss Minchin's charges against Sara, I told him in no uncertain terms that Sara did not steal any of the wonderful things that the magic had brought to her drab attic room.

"She didn't do it, honest."

"I... see. So some "magic" brought it to her room? You do know that you're speaking to a police officer, don't you?"

"I was the one who brought all those things into their room, sahib," explained Ram Dass. "I can demonstrate how I did it, if you wish."

He corroborated my story and explained his idea to do something nice for two poor little servant girls who lived in the attic next door. Sara briefly described to Officer Brown her mistreatment at the hands of Miss Minchin, as well as my sufferings. She softened parts of her story so as not to hurt her papa, but The Captain's face hardened and his eyes flashed with anger. Yet I could see the pride in his brave little girl.

Mr. Randolph also bristled with indignation upon hearing of Sara's misery after The Captain's reported death.

"That's no way to treat a little girl!" he cried. "Why, if I had been the head of the school, I would have seen to it that you were adopted right away, Sara."

The Captain thanked him and replied pointedly, "But then perhaps I wouldn't have found my daughter as easily."

"True, my friend. But at least she wouldn't have starved and toiled like a drudge."

I listened as they bantered about Sara's hypothetical welfare, until Officer Brown interrupted them.

"Gentlemen, if you don't mind, I'm almost done with my interrogation."

This quieted them, until he pointed at me. "Now, what about her?"

I went numb. What _about_ me? What did I have to do with any of this?

But dear Sara took my hand and squeezed it. "Becky's my sister," she proclaimed unashamedly.

I snuck a glance at The Captain, who kept his thoughtful gaze upon us.

"Your... sister?" asked Officer Brown, who scratched his forehead.

"Yes, I always thought so, especially when Miss Minchin confined me to that attic," she replied as she gave me a smile that warmed my insides. "Becky and I promised to be sisters and to always look after each other."

Silence ensued as the policeman scribbled his notes. I looked down at the floor and felt every eye in the room scrutinizing me. What did The Captain think of me now? When at last I dared to look up at him, I saw the same warmth and twinkle in his eye that Sara had for me.

"Well," he said with a sly grin hanging off his lips. "If Sara says Becky is her sister, then it is so. Any other questions, Officer Brown?"

I turned to Sara in amazement, and we hugged each other. I had a sister! A real sister! It wasn't just make believe anymore. I was too excited and tired to remember how the interrogation ended. When Ram Dass brought over our clothes from the attic, Mr. Randolph was appalled at their threadbare condition.

"What's this, Ram Dass? Don't we have anything better for these girls to wear?"

Ram Dass brought out the beautiful robes he had given us. "Just these, Sahib. We'll have to get them new dresses tomorrow."

"I'll buy them some right away," declared The Captain.

"Not so fast," returned Mr. Randolph. "I'll get the clothes, and you can pay me when you get your property back."

"Very well," resigned The Captain. "I forgot, Sara, but it seems that I am a pauper now. What do you think about that?"

Sara stroked her papa's face. "It's all right, papa. I don't care if we're rich or poor, as long as I'm with you." And she kissed him and held him close.

He fought back tears and whispered, "I wish your mother were here." And I imagined that somehow Sara's mama was up in heaven, watching their joyful reunion. I remembered her picture in Sara's locket; she was very beautiful.

"Your locket!" I gasped.

"Miss Minchin still has my locket, papa," Sara cried.

"Then we must get it back at once," replied The Captain almost ferociously. "She can keep the other things, but the locket is not negotiable."

"Ram Dass, go with him to fetch it at once," commanded Mr. Randolph. "Tell Miss Minchin I will compensate her for any losses she incurred for Sara during Captain Crewe's absence."

"Thank you, Mr. Randolph," replied The Captain with gratitude.

Sara and I waited anxiously by the fire for their return. Mr. Randolph seemed a little ill-at-ease with us, but Sara soon made him feel better when she mentioned his son, John.

"I was writing to my papa," she told him, "on the day that you said good-bye to him. I saw both of you through my window."

"Bless you, Sara," he said. "He's my only one. I hope he's still alive somewhere, just like your father is now." And they talked about all the things that made their loved ones special.

Shortly thereafter, The Captain and Ram Dass returned triumphantly with Sara's locket, and Sara wore it joyfully once again.

"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Randolph. Miss Minchin was loathe to part with Sara's locket until I gave her your financial assurance."

"The wretch!" cried Mr. Randolph. "So stingy she wouldn't give a little girl's necklace back to her! Why, it makes me so mad that I want to... to..."

"You must calm down, sahib," said Ram Dass soothingly, as he gave Mr. Randolph another cup of tea.

Sara and I were so excited that we couldn't even think of going to bed. After Mr. Randolph retired, The Captain, Ram Dass, Sara and I were still awake, talking about everything that had happened from Sara's first day of school until now. I spoke very little and mostly listened to tale upon tale of adventures, triumphs and sorrows.

When at last our eyes were too heavy to stay open, Ram Dass announced that he had prepared a room for Sara and I.

"But I want to stay with papa tonight," Sara pleaded. She had sat on his lap almost the entire night.

The Captain touched his forehead to hers.

"I assure you that you will see me in the morning, sweetheart," he said in his kind but firm way.

Sara gazed at him with all of the tenderness and affection a girl could have for her father. My heart melted.

"You promise, papa?"

"I promise," he said. He and I were both on the verge of tears. As he kissed her, one slid down my cheek. I dashed it away just as he glanced at me, but not quickly enough. He gently set Sara down and arose from his chair before reaching out to me.

"Come Becky, let's continue our conversation tomorrow, shall we? For we still have so much to talk about."

Shyly, I gave him my hand. He grasped it firmly and trotted us upstairs behind Ram Dass. I felt as if I were in the beginning of a beautiful dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Excerpt: The Captain**

Hours passed since Sara reconciled with her beloved papa. The Captain confirmed, much to our host's delight, that he had tried to save John Randolph in the trenches.

"I will speak to my lawyer at once," Mr. Randolph said excitedly. "Who knows, but perhaps John is still in Europe somewhere, or perhaps England."

"I must contact my solicitor and visit the British embassy as well," replied The Captain. He looked at Sara and I affectionately. "Perhaps you girls would like to come with me? We can go shopping for clothes afterwards."

"Oh, yes," replied Sara happily.

I didn't make a peep, for I was bewildered by his suggestion. I had never worn anything new or pretty in all my life until Ram Dass gave me my first robe when the magic came into our attic. Nor had I ever bought any new clothes for myself.

Around this time I began to struggle mightily within my heart. For while I had every reason to be grateful and happy, several times I caught myself having thoughts that I was ashamed to admit, sentiments for which I chastised myself. Sometimes when I watched Sara and The Captain in their intimate moments, I felt pangs of jealousy pierce my heart. At first, I couldn't understand it. The Captain was very kind to me. I was now well-fed, had good clothes to wear, and while Sara went back to being a true princess, she never once condescended to me, and instead invited me to become a princess alongside her.

I finally realized in my own childish way that I had fallen in love with The Captain. Not in a romantic manner, mind you, but as a daughter adored her father, so I adored him with all my heart. But I did not know how he felt about me. I knew he cared for me for Sara's sake. She frequently spoke to him on my behalf, and he listened and often consented to her requests. As I had neither kin nor parent in the world, I cherished every kind glance, every gentle word, every soft touch of the hand that he gave me. Like a desert longing for rain, I could not have enough of him. I thought I would die if anyone should try to separate me from Sara and my beloved Captain.

Such angst overtook me that sometimes I couldn't sleep. On one such night, when all was quiet, I arose out of bed and slipped to The Captain's room. I quietly opened the door to catch a glimpse of him sleeping, and I imagined all those nights in India when Sara might have run to his bedroom during a monsoon storm. When I couldn't bear my feelings any longer, I closed the door and snuck down the moonlit hallway to find a dark corner. There I crouched and wept. Little did I realize that I had awakened him. He made no sound as he knelt on the floor beside me.

"What is it, Rebecca? Why are you crying?"

I jumped when I heard his voice. Rebecca. He called me by that name when Sara first introduced me to him. I loved it and imagined it to be his special name for me. I didn't answer him right away, and he inquired again. His gentle voice made me sob even harder, and I could not speak. But he was patient, and I knew that I couldn't make him wait much longer.

"I... I... I wish you were my dad. My _real_ dad. I... I love you..." I choked.

With my hands I quickly covered my face, and my cheeks were burning. I had confessed my true feelings and could not bear to look at him. He didn't reply; rather, he took me in his arms and held me tight. I wept bitterly until I was sure that I had soaked the lapel of his robe. When my sobs subsided, he wiped away my tears with his sleeve. I tried to say more, but he gently touched my lips with one finger.

"It's time for you to go to bed, young lady."

I nodded dejectedly. Perhaps he hadn't heard me after all. He picked me up and carried me back to the bedroom that Sara and I shared, and laid me down on my own bed. The Captain tucked me in and kissed my forehead.

"Go to sleep, angel," he whispered.

He sat, watching me, until I entered my dreams.

The next morning, I woke up feeling as if I had slept for ages. Bright sunlight was streaming though the window, and I gasped when I saw the bedroom clock.

"Noon!" I exclaimed. At Miss Minchin's I would have been severely punished for sleeping late.

"Hey, sleepy head!" yelled Sara as she burst into the bedroom.

"Sara, why didn't you wake me up?"

"You looked so peaceful. Besides, you were exhausted. Papa told me you were awake last night."

I was mortified. "I'm sorry."

"What for? Com'on, get dressed. Papa's going to take us out to the park today."

I dressed myself in a hurry, wondering what The Captain thought of my outburst last night. I needn't have worried. When I met him downstairs, he smiled warmly at me.

"Ah, another item on my long list of things to do," he said, before starting towards Mr. Randolph's library.

"What's he talking about?" I asked Sara.

She gave me that same impish grin. "Follow him. You'll see."

"Rebecca, if I might have a word with you," beckoned The Captain. I wondered at this, but Sara nodded that I should go along with him, so I dragged my feet into the quiet study, dreading every moment of what was to come. I thought Sara would join us, but she did not. I did not know what to expect as The Captain riveted his clear blue eyes upon me.

"Sara has told me a great deal about you."

I nodded as I looked into his face.

"If I may ask..." he began.

"Yes?"

"Where are your parents?"

I lowered my head. "My mama died when I was five. I never knew my daddy. He died not long after I was born."

"I see. So you have no relations of any kind? No family?"

"No, I haven't any."

"Just like us," he muttered, before questioning me further. "How did you end up at the school?"

"Mama was a washer woman and a cook's helper there. When she died, the cook begged Miss Minchin to keep me so I could help her."

I kept watching his inscrutable face anxiously, hoping against hope. He seemed deep in thought.

"Please, Cap'n. Please let me stay with you and Sara. I'll be your maid, I'll do anything. Just please don't send me back to the school."

His countenance became stern and intimidating. I had never seen nor heard of him being unkind, but this time I wasn't so sure.

"I'll let you stay with us on these conditions," he ordered.

"Anything," I replied breathlessly.

He scrutinized me with his hands clasped behind his back, as if he were a general ready to order his soldiers about. My heart sank, but staying with him would be far better than being a wretch at Miss Minchin's.

"First, you are not to call me 'Captain.'"

"What should I call you then, sir? Mister?"

"No. You're part of our family now. I expect you and Sara to be true sisters in every sense of the word, with love, loyalty, and faithfulness to each other, forever. Is that understood?"

He gave me such a severe stare that I was rendered mute. I could barely breathe and only had the strength to nod. My heart nearly skipped out of my chest.

"And, young lady, as a member of our family, I expect you to behave accordingly. You're no longer an urchin or scullery maid. You're my daughter."

I wondered if I had heard him right. I nodded again as his face softened.

"You may come in now, Sara."

The door opened and in walked Sara.

"Goodness, papa, you didn't scare her, did you? Look at her eyes! They're as wide as saucers!"

"No need to worry, sweetheart," The Captain grinned as he sat. "I was merely giving her my standard fatherly lecture."

Sara beamed at me as she took my hands in hers. "Welcome to our family, Becky. Now we'll both get papa's lectures."

The Captain chuckled and opened his arms to us. We flew straight to his knees.

"Daddy," I whispered.

"Dear Rebecca," he replied, as he hoisted me up on to one side of his lap, just as he had done with Sara so many times before. For the first time in my life, I felt the bliss of being safe in my father's arms. Sara sat next to me, and we giggled together.

The Captain kissed us both and held us close for a long time.

"I reckon that I won't be able to do this much longer," he declared. "You girls are getting much too big for me."

"Just think, Becky, from now on, it won't be papa and his daughter Sara," declared my sister. "It'll be papa and his _daughters_, Sara and Rebecca."

I stared at her in amazement, just like some people do nowadays when I tell them that a kind British officer and his daughter adopted me all those years ago.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Excerpt: Miss Minchin's End**

I almost forgot to mention what became of Miss Minchin. The morning after our miracle happened, The Captain received a curt letter from her, mentioning all of Sara's debts and his obligation to keep her in school, as well as his unlawful harboring of a staff member---me.

Mr. Randolph came to our aid again, and counseled us not to reply, but to wait until Mr. Randolph's lawyer, Mr. Carmichael, could investigate the situation and form an appropriate response.

"No need to worry yourself over it," he told daddy.

"You have already been so kind to me, Mr. Randolph. I do not wish to burden you with my financial problems. It is true that I owe Miss Minchin, and I must somehow make it right."

"Nonsense. Ram Dass told me how those girls suffered at that woman's hands. I'd say that they more than paid their debt to the school with all of their drudgery."

The Captain looked at Sara somberly. "I'm so sorry that you had to experience it. I should have been more careful..."

"It's not your fault, papa," Sara assured him. "Besides, I learned just how much working people live and suffer every day."

She smiled at me kindly and continued, "Becky knows what it's like to be ordered about all her life, with nowhere to go and no one to care for her."

"Then it was a lesson well-learned, Sara. Nevertheless, I'm proud that you did not stoop to theft or some other vice to obtain a living."

She gasped. "Oh no, papa. I would never do that, ever. It would be beneath a princess to steal."

He smiled. "My strong little girl."

"I wouldn't have been so strong, if it weren't for Becky. She helped me survive that attic."

Daddy beamed at me. "Thank you, Rebecca, for saving Sara's life."

"Sara was the one who kept me going by telling her stories about the magic," I was happy to reply.

"And then Ram Dass and Uncle Charles came to our rescue," added Sara, who now called Mr. Randolph, "Uncle Charles". We laughed at the thought of that wonderful morning in the attic, when everything became bright and beautiful again.

"I have to say, Ram Dass, that was one of your best ideas, to help the girls," said Mr. Randolph.

"Once again, I am indebted to you, Mr. Randolph," replied The Captain.

"Think nothing of it. Here I was, a sick old man confined to a wheelchair, with nothing better to do. Ram Dass told me about two little girls living next door in the attic, working like slaves. I figured I hadn't made my usual charitable donation during the past holiday, so why not help them a little."

At this, Sara bounded toward Mr. Randolph's wheelchair and gave him a big hug. "Thank you!"

I stood at a respectful distance and expressed my gratitude. "If it weren't for you, we would have starved."

He seemed very pleased and said, "You're all very welcome."

Sara went to Ram Dass next and looked up at him with her big, blue eyes. "I remember that day when I was in the street, and my shawl flew to your feet. You had always seemed so familiar, as if I knew you already."

"You're right, Miss," said Ram Dass. "Perhaps that's because I knew you from before."

"Before?" asked The Captain curiously. "Where?"

"On the ship, sahib. Perhaps you do not remember, but I saw you dancing with Miss Sara on the deck of the Cristina Elisa."

Daddy struggled to remember. "I remember dancing with Sara..." he faltered. "But why do I not remember you?"

"Because I was watching you from a distance. But I never forgot you, sahib."

"So you recognized me, then?"

Ram Dass grinned as he nodded. "I did, sahib, and I was very glad, since I knew your daughter was living next door."

"Wait!" Mr. Randolph interrupted. "You mean you knew all this time that they were related? No wonder you insisted that I take him home. Good idea, I might add."

"Not at first, sahib," returned Ram Dass. "I only saw the resemblances and it reminded me of the man and his daughter from the ship, but I was not sure. I only knew that if it were them, I would have liked to help reunite them. When he spoke, I became more sure. India seemed to stir your memory, sahib Crewe."

"We live in a small world, indeed," Mr. Randolph remarked as he gazed at daddy with fatherly affection. My father, in turn, clasped the elderly man's right hand between his own.

"Thank you," he said, with utmost gratitude. And so we were happy---all of us, it seemed, except for the schoolmistress next door.

Miss Minchin became enraged upon learning of our refusal to acquiesce to her demands. She promptly sent back a missive forbidding all communication and visits between Sara and her students. But Mr. Randolph dispatched his lawyer, Mr. Carmichael to the school and promptly dispelled any such notions.

"She will see anyone she wishes to see," Mr. Carmichael told her. "The parents of Miss Crewe's fellow-pupils are not likely to refuse her invitations to visit."

It was a most unpleasant business when Sara and I returned to the attic to collect the rest of our personal belongings. Mr. Randolph sent Ram Dass and Mr. Carmichael to accompany us. Mr. Carmichael was a friendly, stout, rosy-cheeked man with eight children. He did not seem at all like a typical lawyer. He instantly took a liking to us, as we did to him.

"Now, girls. Let's see if we can get your things out of here as quickly as possible," he said, as he patted us on the head.

When we went up to the attic, we saw that it was bare and drab again. Ram Dass had taken down all of the decorations in Sara's old room.

"Oh, I wish you could have seen it, papa!" said Sara. "It was so beautiful!"

Ram Dass smiled. "It was my pleasure to do it, miss."

I watched daddy as he surveyed our squalid former jail cells. His expression went from stunned disbelief to absolute fury. I had expected such a reaction, for he had made sure that Sara should live in comfort before he left. I kept waiting for him to run to her and hug her again for all that she suffered, but he did not. Instead, full of distress, he whirled around and fixed his eyes on me.

"Do you mean to tell me, Rebecca, that you'd lived here all your life?"

"As far as I can remember, sir."

"This was your only room?"

"The only one, sir."

Sara put her arms around me and gave me a gentle squeeze. "I remember the first time I came up here, Becky. You were putting ice on your feet. They were hurting so badly from those old, worn out shoes that you had to wear."

"And I thought that the trenches were bad," The Captain mumbled to himself. "But it's outrageous for little girls to live like this."

"It's not that uncommon, really," said Mr. Carmichael sadly. "Hundreds of children in this city live in similar conditions, or even worse, out in the streets."

After inspecting the place one last time, daddy vowed, "I promise that as long as I live, you shall not sleep in a room like this again."

I gathered what meager things I had, and we all filed downstairs. His jaw clenched, daddy barely restrained himself from marching into Miss Minchin's office and giving her a piece of his mind. Then I remembered that Sara once told me that daddy had written to her every day.

"Sara, whatever happened to all of your letters from... papa?" I asked.

Everyone suddenly froze in their tracks.

"The letters? I... I don't know..." Sara hesitated. "Miss Minchin must've taken them."

My father could not hold himself back any longer, and he burst into Miss Minchin's office. She was astonished to see us, and very ill-at-ease.

"Captain... I... wasn't expecting you..."

"Where are Sara's letters?" he demanded.

"Sara's letters? I... I don't know what you're talking about," she feigned.

He leaned in and fixed his steely eyes upon her face. "The letters I wrote my little girl while I was away," he said in a low voice.

Miss Minchin, having discerned the danger in his tone, quickly opened a cabinet in her desk.

"Here," she said, as she handed him the stack. They looked like they had been opened and trifled with. Daddy took them, his gaze unwavering upon her. Only at Mr. Carmichael's urging did he take a step towards the door.

"You can be sure, Miss Minchin, that you will never see us again," he announced before we marched out of her office.

As soon as we arrived at Mr. Randolph's, Sara pored over the letters.

"Papa!" she exclaimed. "Some of these arrived after I was banished to the attic, but I'd never seen them before!"

Sara gave them to daddy, who looked grief-stricken as he examined them.

"I wrote these right before I went down," he said softly. "They could have given you strength while you were in that attic."

"Cruel, insufferable woman!" cried Mr. Randolph. "She would deny an orphan her beloved father's last effects!"

Sara held the letters close to her heart. "I'll cherish these forever, papa," she promised.

"Maybe Miss Minchin thought that they would remind you that you were a princess," I ventured. "You know how she always hated it when you behaved like one."

My father beckoned, and we flocked to him. He wrapped his arms around Sara and I and told us, "you are my little princesses, always."

As I hugged him, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ram Dass and Mr. Randolph exchanging grins.

-----------

The next day, Ermengarde, Lottie and some other girls from school (Lavinia excluded) visited us, and gave us the latest news about Minchin.

"She was in a terrible mood all day. Did you know that this morning, Miss Amelia returned with her husband?"

"Her husband!" exclaimed Sara, who was so pleased with her matchmaking success.

"Oh yes," Ermengarde continued. "She told us that they got married on Long Island. Isn't that romantic?"

Everyone sighed. "What did Miss Minchin do?" I asked curiously.

"Screamed at Miss Amelia, of course," replied Jessie.

"We listened outside her door," giggled Lottie.

"Miss Amelia's very happy," Jane proclaimed. "She told Minchin that she's never coming back."

"Miss Minchin flew into a rage and told her everything that happened after your papa came back, Sara."

Ermengarde got up, cleared her throat and did her best imitation of the schoolmistress.

"How could you do this to me, Amelia! How could you leave your poor sister to be with... _him_! Didn't you hear how I suffered at the hands of Sara Crewe!"

We all burst into laughter. "Very good, Ermengarde! And what did Miss Amelia say?" asked Sara.

"That's the best part," said Lottie. "Miss Amelia stood up to her, if you can believe it."

"Her dashing milkman helped her to be brave," said Jane.

"I shall be Miss Amelia," announced Jessie as she stood up and faced Ermengarde.

"I have no sympathy for you, sister. I must say I've often thought it would have been better if you had let Sara be decently dressed and more comfortable. She worked much too hard for a child of her age, and was only half fed--"

"How dare you, Amelia!" exclaimed Ermengarde as Miss Minchin.

"She would have repaid you for any kindness you had shown her. But you didn't show her any! Just like you didn't show the chimney sweep, or Becky, or even the girls any kindness at all. Not once!"

"Amelia!"

"You're a hard-hearted, worldly woman, sister! And I was a weak fool who wished I had shown Sara more compassion. She behaved herself like a little princess even when she was poor. She did! And now you've lost her, and if she were like any other child she'd tell how she's been treated, and all your students would be taken away from you and you would be ruined. It serves you right, for you're a hard woman; a hard, selfish, worldly woman!"

We clapped and cheered as the actresses took their bows. Miss Amelia had spoken the truth, and deserved to be commended.

"Go, Miss Amelia! Hooray!"

"I never thought Miss Amelia was that awful. She was just scared of Miss Minchin, is all," I remarked.

"Are you going to tell everyone how you were treated, Sara?" asked Lottie.

"I think you should," said Ermengarde. "Then maybe my papa will take me home."

"I already wrote my parents to tell them," Jessie declared. "I hope you don't mind, Sara. Lavinia has written her folks, too, even if she won't admit it."

"Princesses don't go around airing their grievances to everyone," Sara replied. "But I'm sure that you, papa and Uncle Charles will make things known."

And indeed they did. Daddy, being a man of honor, was willing at first to make an agreement with Miss Minchin to owe her little in return for not openly exposing her mistreatment of Sara, for he did not wish to trifle with her any longer. Nevertheless, news of Sara's mistreatment quickly spread, and soon several parents threatened to withdraw their daughters from the seminary unless she resigned.

Mr. Randolph directed Mr. Carmichael to investigate Miss Minchin and the school, and promptly found that she had overcharged tuition for several years, with certain funds going towards questionable expenses. When he announced his findings to the school's patrons, they demanded that Miss Minchin refund any excess tuition, or they would take her to court. Miss Minchin protested to no avail, and was forced to make the refunds. Naturally, this reduced her to penury and she sold the school to Mr. Randolph, who ordered her immediate departure.

With her reputation ruined, she could not find employment, and was forced to sell her belongings, including her prized harp in order to survive. Finally, out of sheer desperation, she took odd jobs, including chimney sweeping, and became a servant to the boy she had once so despised only months earlier. He treated her far better than she had ever treated him.

A few years later, Frances and Amelia, having secured a prosperous dairy farm, took in Miss Minchin, but by then she had gone a little mad, and raved continually about how Sara had wronged her. Eventually, Amelia put her in a sanatorium.

Thus Miss Minchin's seminary became "The Randolph School For Girls." While Mr. Randolph would have gladly enrolled Sara and I as pupils, happy was the day when The Captain came home from the British embassy with good news.

"They have released me from service and returned my property. We can go home!"

"Oh papa!" cried Sara. "India!"

"I can't wait to see India," I added excitedly. "And the beautiful mountains, and all of the magical places that you described, Sara."

"Did you see the pillow Becky made for me, papa?" asked Sara. "It was a birthday gift."

Daddy smiled at me kindly. "I did. It's very beautiful, Rebecca, thank you."

He then hugged us with a happiness that equaled, but did not exceed his happiness at being reunited with Sara. It was not his property that he had longed for; but rather, it was the prospect of going home, far away from the places where he and Sara had suffered, that buoyed him.

"You'll be able to see the forests and rivers, Becky. And the beautiful sunsets, and Maya and Laki... oh!"

"I will make travel arrangements immediately," said daddy.

I was so excited and ready to go. I thought that perhaps someday, I could return to America as a princess. After all, daddy prepared us for the trip as if we were royalty. Sara and I each received plenty of beautiful dresses, leather shoes, embroidered coats, silk stockings, and lace-and-ribbon-trimmed hats. It was almost too much, and I protested that I had no need for such extravagance.

"I only need two dresses," I declared. "One for daily wear and the other one for Sundays."

Upon hearing this, The Captain merely chuckled, but Sara wouldn't hear of it. "Let papa spoil you a little, Becky. You deserve it. A 'thank you' is all you need to say."

"Thank you," I told my father.

"You're very welcome, my African princess," daddy grinned. He had taken a liking to calling me his "African princess," as did I.

"I could be jealous, Becky," said Sara playfully. "You're extra special, being an _African_ princess."

"You're my English rose, Sara, and Rebecca is my African violet," declared daddy. "And you're both very special to me."

"Aw, papa," we said as we hugged him.

"I reckon this will be your first voyage on a boat, Rebecca. You have never left New York, I presume?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "Never, sir. But I look forward to it."

"And you will not get seasick, will you?" he asked mischievously.

"I don't know," I laughed. "As long as I don't fall off the boat, I'll be all right. I don't know how to swim."

"I can teach you when we get back to India, Becky," Sara offered. "Then you can swim among the elephants."

"Elephants..." I murmured as I imagined what that would be like.

"Don't be giving her any silly ideas, Sara," warned dad. "About tigers sleeping under trees, or sacred cows in the middle of roads, and such."

"Too late, papa. I filled her head with them a long time ago. It was the only thing we had to live for during those cold winter nights."

The Captain became pensive upon learning this, and asked, "I see. And what else did you girls do to get through those harsh times?"

Sara and I looked at each other. "Sara didn't tell her stories anymore at first, but when she finally did, all the girls came upstairs to listen to them," I told him.

He gathered us on to his lap and implored, "Won't you tell them to me?"

And so it was that Sara told him of Prince Rama's great adventures, and his life and death struggle with Ravana to save Princess Sita. Afterwards, daddy scratched his head and responded, "this Prince Rama, he doesn't by any chance look like me, does he?"

Sara and I giggled. "Of course, papa," she replied. "Who else would he look like?"

He shook his head and grinned at us, and Sara told more stories, but we never got tired of it. Even Mr. Randolph and Ram Dass were drawn into listening.

"Well, young lady, you certainly have a talent for tall tales," Mr. Randolph complimented her. "Perhaps someday you'll be a great writer."

"Do you think so, Uncle Charles? Then I must write all my stories at once!" Sara declared. From that time on she was not without pen or paper as she recorded all that arose from her bountiful imagination. At her urging I also began illustrating them, and it became our nightly family ritual for everyone to gather around and listen to her stories, accompanied by my drawings.

I wished our special time with Mr. Randolph wouldn't end, for I wondered how he and Ram Dass would manage after we left, as his house would be empty again. I prayed every night for the safe return of his son, John.

"O Lord, please remember Mr. Randolph for all of his kindness to us," I pleaded. But it would be another year before he would learn of his son's fate.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Excerpt: A Name Given**

After the return of his property, The Captain's first task was to get our travel papers in order. I will not go into much detail here, except to explain how I got my name and passport.

The girls from school continued to visit Sara and I regularly, and now that they were allowed to speak to me, I became friends with several of them. They were all very happy with the changes Mr. Randolph made to the school, and the staff was pleased as well. Mabel the cook was happy to be employed by him, for she thought he was a much better employer than Miss Minchin ever was.

"He treats me like an old friend, that Mr. Randolph, and he's a kind and generous soul," she said as she doted on us. "My, just look at you girls! I'll miss your help for sure, but he told me I could find two more ladies to replace you."

She was extremely cooperative when my father offered her the opportunity for extra compensation, for we had some trouble obtaining my passport, as there was no record of my birth.

"It's required for American citizens traveling abroad during these war times," the clerk at the government office informed us. "We need a birth or baptismal record in order to issue one."

"But she has no birth record! We've searched and couldn't find one," replied daddy, exasperated. After much negotiation, the clerk finally agreed to issue me a passport if I could find a witness to verify my birth in this country.

"Mabel can!" I cried. "She worked with my mama and she knows me."

"Then let's get her at once," daddy declared.

"Is Mabel colored?" asked the clerk.

"No ma'am, she's White," I replied.

Mabel's eyes lit up when she saw daddy's ten-dollar bill.

"Why, bless you, Cap'n. I've been needing a new coat. I'll be glad to go with you."

We trudged back to the passport office, where Mabel explained to the clerk in great detail about my mama and my birth, as well as my work with her at Miss Minchin's. At length, the clerk seemed satisfied, and after asking me a few more questions, began the application process.

"First name?" he asked.

I glanced at Sara, who nodded. "Rebecca?"

"Last name?"

"Did mama ever say what my last name was?" I asked Mabel.

"I... I think it was Williams, but I'm not sure," she hesitated.

The clerk eyed us impatiently.

"I need a last name."

"Williams Crewe," announced Sara. "Is that all right, papa?"

She gave him such a sweet look that he could hardly refuse her. He cocked his head and grinned at me. "If it pleases Rebecca."

"Oh, yes," I said, relieved.

"C-R-E-W?" asked the clerk.

"C-R-E-W-E," daddy corrected him.

When I finally had my passport, I couldn't stop staring at it. I read the line with my new name over and over.

"Careful," admonished my father. "Or you may tear it and we'll have to go back and get another one."

I shuddered at the thought of having to repeat the whole arduous process again, so reluctantly I placed my passport back in its holder. But every once in awhile I would gingerly take it out to read my name again. Later, when were alone, I thanked Sara for intervening on my behalf.

"Why did you say, 'Williams Crewe,' Sara?"

"Because, if we're true sisters, we have to have the same last name, don't we?"

I giggled. "But we look different."

"That's too bad, because I always thought our hearts looked alike."

"But you can't see a heart," I objected. "Besides, people judge us by our outside."

"Then we must look very rich, so they can have nothing bad to say," returned Sara, tongue-in-cheek. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Miss Minchin would have said that it's ridiculous, for sure, and that nothing comes easy and so on, but it's better to look nice and let people judge you well, than to look dreadful and let people judge you badly."

"I don't know," I said doubtfully. "I'm not a princess like you... in real life, that is."

"What do you mean? Have you forgotten what papa said? Of course you're a princess. You just need to get used to it, that's all."

"You mean it? A girl like me could be a... real princess?"

"Of course. You're a black swan; graceful, beautiful, and most of all, kind," she proclaimed. She then went on to describe me in such a way that made my spirits soar. Sara always knew how to make a person feel special, just like our daddy.

When we went shopping the next day, I carried my head high, just as Sara did, and I noticed that my new demeanor elicited mixed reactions. Some resented me, as if I were snobbish. Others were puzzled, and still others treated me with disdain because of my skin. I remembered Sara's sufferings in the attic and how she kept behaving like a princess, and it gave me courage.

"Daddy must not be ashamed of me," I thought, and I strove to be brave. However, I was ill-prepared for what happened next.

"Come on, Becky!" Sara yelled as we crossed a busy street. I struggled to keep up, so beguiled was I by a part of the city that I had never seen before.

Then I turned a corner and they were gone.

"Daddy?" I cried. Bewildered and lost, I stared at the sea of people passing around me. He and Sara were nowhere to be found.

A large working-class woman marched up to me with her lips scrunched tightly in a sneer, and she seized the corner of my coat with her chubby hands. Frightened, I backed away, but she held on to me.

"Well, well, won't you look at this! A colored girl dressed in such finery."

I managed to look her in the face long enough to recognize her. She was Mrs. Blunt, the butcher's wife, and she was as mean as a rattlesnake. I hoped against hope that she wouldn't recognize me.

She grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me. "Where'd you steal 'em clothes, huh?"

I shook my head, terrified. "I didn't steal'em. Their mine, honest!"

She studied my face, her eyes narrowed into little slits. "Hey, I know you... you're that servant girl at the seminary. Now don't you lie to me, you little thief! Just wait until I bring you back to Miss Minchin!" she screamed.

"You don't understand! It's Mr. Randolph's school now!" I pleaded. "And my daddy gave me these clothes!"

She slapped my face hard. "Liar! You have no daddy!"

I avowed my innocence as I nursed my smarting cheek, to no avail. In her eyes I was guilty, and she proceeded to march me in the direction of the school.

"Daddy! Sara!" I screamed in terror.

"Hey!" I heard Sara yell behind us, to my relief. Mrs. Blunt stopped and turned around.

"This girl is a servant at that young ladies' school over there," my accuser informed Sara as she pointed towards the building that used to be my home. "Did she steal your coat, missy?"

"I gave her that coat, madam," replied daddy as he caught up to us. "Now let her go."

He spoke calmly, not wishing to make a scene, but I could tell that he was furious. By now a small crowd had gathered around us and they were staring and whispering. Stunned, Mrs. Blunt released her grip, and I ran to his side.

The Captain looked me over and smoothed my coat sleeves.

"Rebecca, did you offend this lady?"

"No, daddy," I whispered as I shook my head.

He gave me his hand and said quietly, "Come with me." I took it and clung on to him for dear life. Sara took his other hand.

"But... but..." sputtered the butcher's wife.

Daddy tightened his grip on my hand and reeled around.

"Yes?"

His hard stare silenced her immediately. Then we all walked on in silence until Sara finally spoke.

"I can't believe she thought you stole your clothes!"

"It's my fault, really," I replied as I rubbed my cheek. "I should have kept up with you."

"What's the matter with your cheek, Becky?"

"It still hurts."

"Why?"

Reluctantly, I told her, "Mrs. Blunt slapped me..."

My father came to dead halt. "What!" He exclaimed in consternation.

I was afraid that he might go back to my accuser and beat her black and blue.

"It's nothing, really. I've been through worse."

"No one---hits my girls," he declared through gritted teeth. "You are to tell me at once if someone tries to hurt you. Do you understand, Rebecca?"

"Yes, daddy," I said, and I loved him even more than I did before, if that were possible.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Excerpt: Farewell to New York**

_Thank you, all of my readers who have reviewed my story and sent me messages. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and don't worry, I'm not anywhere near done with this story yet._

I'll never forget the day that we bade our friends farewell in New York. Sara and I wore our best travel clothes as we marched together into our old school. I still remember that satin-and-lace-trimmed ivory coat and dress she wore as she clutched Emily in the crook of her arm. I wore a simpler embroidered white coat dress with a lovely floral trimmed hat, with white leather shoes that I had chosen.

We said our first goodbyes to Mr. Dufarge, and then to Mabel. Mabel warmly kissed us both.

"Bless you, girls. You'd always been a good help to me. Now take this opportunity to live in happiness," she told us. "Becky, your mama would be so happy to see you right now, looking like a little princess."

I hugged her tight. "Thank you for all you did for me," I returned with all of my gratitude.

Hand in hand, Sara and I walked outside, where our friends were playing in front of the building. For the first time in my life I no longer felt like an outsider. Everyone ran to us and Sara announced her surprise gift to them.

"Emily!" squealed Lottie, as she took the French doll.

"And when you hug her, you'll really be getting a hug from me," Sara replied.

"Then we'll hug her every day," Ermengarde vowed as she hugged Sara back. We all sighed.

Despite our joy, my sister noticed Lavinia standing alone on the steps, still cold and proud. But Sara didn't let anything stop her. She went to her former rival and they stood eye to eye for several silent seconds.

I held my breath, wondering what would happen next. Suddenly, Lavinia wrapped her arms around Sara's shoulders, and Sara hugged her back. Ermengarde, Lottie and I watched in astonishment as Sara twirled a few strands of Lavinia's beautiful hair around her fingers, and the sound of their giggles echoed across the pavement. I ran to them, with the girls following close behind me.

Sara took my hand, and for the first time, Lavinia spoke to me.

"Bye, Becky," she waved with a smile.

"Bye," I waved back. Lavie, as we later called her, took Lottie and ran up the steps to send us off, along with the rest of the girls. It was the best farewell we could have had, even though I knew Sara would miss Ermengarde and Lottie terribly.

"We'll write each other every week," Sara had promised them on their last visit.

"I'll learn my letters real well so I can write you myself," said Lottie.

"And I'll try to learn my math and history without your help, Sara," mourned Ermengarde. "Even though it won't be the same without you here to remind me."

"Will you promise to send us your stories, too?" asked Lottie.

"I'll send you a new story every month," Sara told her.

"Write to us, too, Becky. Tell us what India is like when you get there," urged Ermengarde.

"I will," I promised. "I'll draw pictures for you, too."

We would also miss Ram Dass and Mr. Randolph very much. The night before our departure, Sara and I gave our final story in honor of our dear Uncle Charles.

"And so it was Uncle Charles and Ram Dass, along with his heroic monkey, who brought papa back to me. The end!"

I held up my final illustration, a portrait of all of us together. Uncle Charles reached out for it.

"May I have it, Rebecca? I would like to frame it and put it in my library, so I will always remember these good times we've had."

I gave it to him. "Of course, Uncle Charles," I replied. "I drew it with you and Ram Dass in mind."

With his shaking hands, he took the picture and smiled as he looked at it. Then he gave it to Ram Dass and held out his arms to us. Sara and I flew to him.

"I'll miss you girls. How I wish John was here to see all this," he said.

Years later, daddy told me that Mr. Randolph had offered him a job in New York. If it weren't for other considerations, daddy would have accepted.

"I had pondered whether to return to England, or to stay in America, or go back to India, and in the end, India won out."

"What made you decide to go back to India?" I asked.

He grinned and replied, "You girls were so excited about going there that I didn't want to disappoint you. Besides, India had become my second home. I felt comfortable there."

Ram Dass had the honor of being the last person to whom daddy spoke before we left the school.

"Bye, Ram Dass! Thank you!" daddy shouted through the throng crying and waving from the school steps. Ram Dass gave us an enigmatic smile and kept his eyes on us as we left in our carriage. As we drove away, I never felt more like a princess than I did before. My bliss felt like heaven on earth.

We set sail on a clear sunny day from New York, on a ship called the Adriatic, bound for Liverpool. I had never been on a ship before, nor in my eleven years of life had I ever gone near the ocean, so I was overwhelmed by the colorful sights, sounds and scents that engulfed my senses. Fresh sea air, sounds of the ship's horn, and crowds of cheery passengers waving to loved ones all added to my wonder.

"Are you all right, Rebecca?" asked daddy. "You look as if you are in a daze."

"I've never seen the ocean before. It's so big..."

He and Sara grinned. "You'll have enough time to get used to the boat."

"Papa, what if she gets seasick?" cried Sara.

"Oh no, I hope not!" I replied in dismay.

"She'll be all right," he said as he patted me on the head. "In general, I think children adjust to traveling on ships more quickly than adults. Just eat lightly."

That night, Sara and I put on one of our beautiful gowns and we went to dinner with daddy. As we sat at a private corner table, I noticed the furtive glances and whispers about us.

"Why are people staring at us funny?" I asked.

"Don't mind them, Rebecca. They're just curious. Eat your dinner."

"What are they curious about, papa?" Sara insisted.

Daddy shrugged. "Not sure. Perhaps they're wondering if we're having turtles for dinner, or drinking beetle juice."

We burst out laughing. Daddy always knew how to divert our attention away from unpleasant subjects.

"Would you girls like to go to a concert? I heard that a famous soprano will be giving a special performance tonight."

"I'd love to go with you, papa," returned Sara, who was ecstatic. "Becky, trust me, you'll love it."

"I always loved singing," I replied, as I nodded in agreement.

When we arrived at the ship's grand ballroom for the concert, I noticed a Black couple standing in line before us. They looked very distinguished in their speech, manners and dress. The man was arguing with the usher.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to sit in the back," said the usher.

"But we're first class passengers!"

"Yes, but it's our policy that coloreds sit in the back. You can speak with our captain, if you like. Now if you excuse me, there are others who are waiting to get into the recital."

Disappointed, the man and his wife went inside. When our turn came, daddy told the usher, "we'll sit in the back."

"But sir..." sputtered the usher. Daddy gave him his usual stern glare, and the usher had nothing more to say.

We sat down next to the Black couple, who eyed us curiously. The man's interest in us grew when he heard me address my father.

"Daddy, will we see many places on our way to India?"

The Captain seemed pleased with the question.

"I'll take you to visit London, Cheshire, and then we'll sail the Mediterranean to Egypt and through the Suez canal to the Indian Ocean and on to Bombay."

I drew in my breath as visions of exotic places filled my head.

"Excuse me, sir," came the pleasant voice next to me. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I'm Dr. Thomas Hill," he introduced himself to us. "And this is my wife, Mary."

Daddy shook his hand. "Ralph Crewe," he replied. "And these are my daughters, Sara and Rebecca."

"You're traveling to India?"

"Yes, back to our home there."

"We're going to Paris for a conference ourselves," said Dr. Hill.

"Ah, Paris; delightful city," daddy agreed. He turned to us and said, "I'll take you girls there some day."

"I'd love to go," I whispered.

Dr. Hill glanced at me and was about to say something, but he was interrupted by the concert host.

"Why don't we continue this conversation another time?" invited daddy. "Would you like to meet tomorrow morning for breakfast?"

"It would be a pleasure," returned Dr. Hill very graciously.

Miss Lillian Winter arrived on stage and enthralled us all. She was wearing a burgundy velvet dress, with her dark tresses flowing freely as she sang "Casta Diva" by Bellini. I heard her voice and instantly fell in love with opera.

"I'm going to sing that song someday," I announced as daddy tucked Sara and I into bed that night.

"Then you most certainly will," he said with a wink before he planted a kiss on my cheek.

Sara turned towards me and said, "I can see it now, Becky, you're wearing that beautiful diamond dress on stage, singing an aria."

I giggled as I tried to picture it.

"Of course, you'll have to learn French, Italian, Spanish and German, but I can help you with French, and we can learn the rest together," she continued enthusiastically.

"That's a lot of languages," I said nervously.

"Don't worry, you can do it. I know you can."

She said it with such conviction that I couldn't help but believe it myself. I went to sleep dreaming of music and languages and beautiful people like Dr. and Mrs. Hill.

The next morning, we met them for breakfast and found out more about our new friends. Dr. Hill, as it turned out was a professor at Howard University. He and Mrs. Hill were attending an educational conference in Paris, and this was their third trip abroad. He and daddy discussed the affairs of the day while Mrs. Hill doted on Sara and I.

At length, daddy said to Dr. Hill, "I suppose you're curious about Rebecca."

"If you don't mind me saying so, I'm very interested," Dr. Hill replied.

Daddy briefly explained what happened to us at Miss Minchin's, and how he came to have two daughters by the end of the whole ordeal. Naturally, the Hills were appalled by our story, but not much surprised.

"I work with the destitute in my community, Mr. Crewe. Many of them live in far worse conditions. But I'm very happy for you and your daughters."

After breakfast, daddy invited Dr. Hill to continue their conversation on the deck.

"If you don't mind, Dr. Hill, I would like to ask your opinion on some issues," he requested.

"It would be an honor," replied Dr. Hill. "And if you don't mind, Mrs. Hill wanted to invite your girls to our cabin so she could work on Rebecca's hair."

"Oh, daddy, can I?" I asked breathlessly.

"If it's not an inconvenience to Mrs. Hill," he said.

"Not at all," said Mrs. Hill warmly. "Come, girls," she beckoned.

We followed her to their cabin, which was just as nice as ours. "Will you teach me how to take care of Becky's hair?" asked Sara, as we sat down on her bed.

"Of course," said Mrs. Hill, as she opened her satchel. I gasped as I watched her lay out combs, brushes, and a dizzying array of oils and treatments on the dresser.

"You have everything!" I gasped.

"Come here, Becky. Let's take a look at you."

I took off my hat and sat down at the dresser and she examined my tresses.

"You're overdue for a coat of oil, that's for sure," she said as she opened a bottle.

"Emmm... That smells like coconut!" exclaimed Sara.

"That's right, it's coconut oil," said Mrs. Hill, as she smoothed it into my hair. "I used to do this with my daughter's hair all the time."

"How old is your daughter?" I asked.

"She's twenty-five now; just married a lawyer last year. I'm waiting for a grandchild," she chuckled. "I wish she were here with us. She's a singer, you know. She would have loved to hear Miss Lillian Winter."

"Becky wants to sing opera, too," announced Sara.

My cheeks flushed as I tried to hide my embarrassment. "Sara!" I cried.

Mrs. Hill only smiled. "Then I hope to hear you someday. Work on it with all your heart, and don't give up," she encouraged me.

Time flew and soon daddy and Dr. Hill were back from their stroll, each looking invigorated by the other man's company.

"Thank you for all your kindness and wisdom," said daddy to Dr. Hill.

Dr. Hill nodded and replied, "the pleasure's all mine."

I hugged Mrs. Hill carefully, so as not to mess up my hair. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Hill," I said.

"You're welcome, girls," she said as she kissed us.

After we left, Sara couldn't contain her curiosity and asked, "What did you and Dr. Hill talk about, papa?"

Daddy chuckled. "There you go, Sara, my little inquisitive one. Dr. Hill is going to help me find a suitable tutor for Becky after he returns to America."

We waited for him to continue, but he just grinned at us.

"And?" demanded Sara.

"And, I have booked Miss Winter to give us a special concert tomorrow night."

My jaw dropped. "She's going to sing just for us?"

Daddy nodded. "Exactly. I also invited Dr. and Mrs. Hill, if you girls don't mind."

"Oh, yes!" I cried. And indeed the next night, we enjoyed a spectacular evening with Miss Winter. I was able to hear every trill, every nuanced tone of inflection in her voice, and it thrilled me to pieces.

The Hills remained our traveling companions for the duration of our voyage until we docked in Liverpool, and little did I know it, but this was the beginning of a lifelong friendship between my father and Dr. Hill.

"Thomas opened my eyes to things that I had not seen nor thought about before," daddy remarked years later.

Before we parted company, Dr. Hill presented me with a gift. "This is for you, Rebecca," he said.

I opened the small package, wrapped in newspaper. Inside was a well-worn copy of a book called "My Bondage and My Freedom".

"It's my copy of Frederick Douglass' autobiography," he told me.

I hugged the book and said, "Thank you, sir. I will treasure this. And thank you, Mrs. Hill, for your help with my hair."

She gave me and Sara several kisses. I clung to her, not wanting to let go. "I'll miss you," I said, with tears in my eyes.

"Now, now, don't cry, or you'll make me cry, too," she replied gently as she dabbed away my tears.

Finally, daddy cleared his throat. "We'd best go, if we want to reach London by nightfall."

I felt a bittersweet feeling well up inside me as I waved goodbye to them. Fortunately, we would have several meetings again in later years. But I believe that it was by God's grace that we met on the Adriatic all those years ago.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Excerpt: A Visit to Cheshire**

_Thank you to all my readers who waited patiently for this chapter. I must admit that it took me awhile to write this one because it was the only chapter where I didn't already have all of the details planned out beforehand. But at last I was able to overcome writer's block. So I hope you enjoy it._

After my father finished his business in London, which took all but three days, Sara and I had expected to go straight to India, but he wanted to visit Cheshire beforehand.

"Why Cheshire?" asked Sara quizzically as we waited for our coach.

"That's where our family is from," replied daddy proudly.

"So we have relatives there?" she exclaimed. Maybe we weren't alone after all.

"Only distant ones, unfortunately. But I thought you girls ought to see the place before we left England."

"Where's Cheshire?" I asked.

"Wales, northwest of here. The last time I saw it, I was at my mother's funeral."

"Did she trade crackers, too?" I wondered aloud.

Daddy chuckled. "Trade crackers?"

"The girls at school used to call you the cracker king, papa," explained Sara. "They thought that was how you got rich."

"Well yes, there were crackers, or rather, biscuits. But they were for the tea. We traded mainly tea and spices," he corrected us.

"Papa's teas are delicious," declared Sara with a grin. "They're the best in the world!"

She and I had never seen our father's ancestral land before, but we immediately fell in love with Cheshire's picturesque countryside. We toured the magnificent Crewe Hall, and I was most impressed by the black and white timbered buildings that lined Nantwich's High Street.

"Tomorrow we'll go to St. Mary's Church," declared the Captain.

"But it's not Sunday," I reminded him.

"I know, Rebecca."

He said nothing more, but the glint in his eye betrayed him.

"What is it, papa?" Sara demanded to know. "Tell us, please?"

"It's where I was baptized," he replied solemnly. "Where your grandfather and generations of ancestors are buried... our family is recorded in the registry there."

He snuggled us close to him and said, "I want you to see it. Rebecca should get baptized as well."

We stayed at the Beacon Inn that first night. As I lay in bed, gazing out our window at the stars, I finally admitted my initial jealousy to Sara.

"But why were you jealous, Becky?"

My cheeks burned as I confessed, "because I wanted him to be my dad too."

"But he IS your dad now."

"I know," I said, with tears in my eyes.

Sara gently smoothed my hair and said, "tomorrow you're getting baptized, then we'll go to church the next day."

"When did you get baptized, Sara?"

"In India, when I was a baby. I don't remember it, really. But papa said mama held me in her arms the whole time, and I was a good little girl until I felt those drops of water on my head. Then I cried and cried."

We laughed and talked for a long time before falling asleep. The next morning, the innkeeper, Mrs. Melody, greeted us warmly when we went downstairs for breakfast.

"Did you sleep well, Mr. Crewe?" she asked daddy.

"Indeed I did, thank you."

"How did you girls like your bed?"

"It was so soft!" I replied as Sara nodded.

"And if I may ask, do you have plans for the day?"

"Why yes, we're going to St. Mary's for my daughter's baptism," said daddy.

Mrs. Melody's face turned a little pale.

"Oh," she replied softly. "You aren't takin' them to see Bishop Blaine, are you?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Well, if you must," she said anxiously. "I'll... I'll get you some more tea," she continued before hurrying into the kitchen.

After a sumptuous breakfast of eggs, bacon and fried laverbread, we walked to the old church. Daddy said very little as we passed by townspeople who politely stared at us. Some whispered as if we were exotic travelers, which we were.

We arrived at St. Mary's and entered its hallowed, chilly halls. I almost shivered, even with my coat on. We were greeted by the vicar, a slim, older man with spectacles hanging on his gaunt face.

"Mr. Crewe?"

"Yes--"

"This way, please."

After giving Sara and I a stern glance, he lead us to the bishop's office. It seemed austere and gloomy, just like the man who arose from behind his desk to greet us.

"Ah, Mr. Crewe. Do have a seat."

He motioned towards the two chairs in front of his desk. Instead of sitting, daddy turned to us and said, "sit, girls."

Sara and I smiled at each other as we each took a seat. I noticed the bishop's withering glance in my direction.

"What brings you here today, Mr. Crewe?"

"I'd like my daughter Rebecca to be baptized, and her name added to our family records."

Bishop Blaine gave Sara a tight-lipped smile as well as a nod of approval.

"Very good. We can do so right away. How old are you, Rebecca?"

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, bishop. That's Sara."

Daddy put his gentle hands on my shoulders.

"This is Rebecca."

The astonishment on Bishop Blaine's face could not have been more apparent.

"She's... Rebecca?"

"Yes."

His face flushed a deep red as he folded his arms.

"Is something the matter?" asked daddy.

"May I have a word with you in private?" asked the bishop.

Daddy looked at him for a long moment, as if to ascertain the matter. Finally, he grimaced and said, "girls, please go outside for a moment."

Sara and I held hands and reluctantly left the office. After daddy closed the door, we stayed outside, eavesdropping and watching for the vicar. Now sometimes I wish we hadn't.

"Mr. Crewe, you say that the other girl—that is, Rebecca, is your... daughter?" said the bishop.

"Yes, I adopted her. Why?"

"You adopted a Negro girl?"

"I... don't understand this line of questioning. I brought her here to be baptized. Is that a problem?"

"Quite frankly, yes. Don't you know your place, Mr. Crewe?"

"My place?"

"Whites and Blacks shall never mix, and it is beneath you to call a Negro your daughter."

I hung my head, but not for long. Sara lifted my chin and gave me a fierce, steady stare, as if daring me to lower it again.

I could hear the edge in my father's voice as he enunciated his next question. "Will you baptize her or not?"

A long silence ensued. At last the bishop replied, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why? What harm could it possibly do, baptizing a little girl?" asked daddy indignantly.

"It's against my principles, Mr. Crewe," said the bishop, with no small disdain in his voice. "I hope you understand."

"I should like at the very least to have her name be recorded in the parish register, next to mine."

"Of course. I shall have the vicar do so when he has a chance. Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you," said daddy in a low voice. Sara and I scampered a few feet away from the door as it opened. Out walked the Captain with his lips drawn taut. He motioned to us and said, "come, girls."

I took his left hand and we silently trotted back towards the inn.

"Papa, is Becky still getting baptized?" asked Sara.

He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Rebecca."

"It's okay, daddy," I said, despite my dashed hopes. We entered the inn, where Mrs. Melody's sunny demeanor was a welcome respite.

"Mr. Crewe! Back so early? Would you like some lunch?"

"I reckon I could use some tea," he replied. "Come and sit, girls."

We sat at a corner table. It was still morning and the lunch crowd had not yet arrived. Daddy fumed silently between sips of tea, while Mrs. Melody noticed his agitated state.

"Is everything all right?" she asked as she waited on us.

"That bishop..." daddy began.

Mrs. Melody sighed and set down the tea pot. "I was afraid you'd say that. He's new; just moved here from South Africa but a year ago; not very tolerant of outsiders."

"You mean Negroes," replied daddy pointedly.

"Aye, notwithstanding the fact that some families here are descended from Jack Black."

"Jack Black?" asked Sara curiously. "Was he a blacksmith?"

Mrs. Melody chuckled. "No, dearie. He was an African boy; kidnapped and brought over here almost two hundred years ago. They called him John Ystumllyn. He settled in these parts, married a local lass and was buried in Gwynedd. A gentle soul he was."

She paused and glanced around before confessing, "was my great-great-great-great grandfather, you know."

Daddy's jaw dropped, but the innkeeper smiled and patted my head.

"Try the Methodist Chapel on Hospital Street. They're much more welcoming."

"But I'm not a Methodist," daddy countered.

"No matter. They welcome all kinds of folk to attend and be baptized," she said as she patted me on the head.

"Thank you for the suggestion," said daddy as he beamed at me.

I was so excited at another possibility, and I didn't have to wait long. We visited the chapel, and just as Mrs. Melody said, we received a warm welcome. When daddy explained our predicament to the parson, he was very agreeable, and after an hour of counsel with him, I was baptized and my name recorded in the chapel register.

"I have something for you, Rebecca," said daddy afterwards with a grin.

He took it out of his coat pocket and let it dangle from his finger.

Sara drew in her breath. "It's beautiful!"

"A locket...?" I whispered in stunned amazement. It was just like Sara's. Daddy draped it around my neck.

"Can I open it?" I asked.

"Of course, it's yours."

And so I did. Inside were photos of daddy and Sara. I glanced up at him with gratitude. He had been watching me.

"Thank you," I sighed as I held it to my bosom. My eyes were starting to water again. Sara came and put her arm around my shoulders.

"Now we both have a locket."

I gave my sister a tight squeeze until daddy cleared his throat. Then I ran into his arms and held him tight for a long moment.

"Well," he began. "I suppose we should continue our journey home. There's only one more thing left to do."

We said farewell to the good Methodists and bought wildflowers from a young woman and her little daughter on the street.

"Bless you, sir," she said as she gave us a huge bouquet.

"Where are we going now?" I inquired.

"Are we walking back to St. Mary's?" asked Sara.

"Yes," daddy replied. We meandered to St. Mary's churchyard, where rows of headstones lay near the church walls. We followed daddy as he deftly trod between graves until he found one located near the southeast corner of the cemetery. There he laid some flowers gently on George and Eliza Crewe's grave.

"My parents," he said.

Sara traced the letters on the headstone. "Hi, grandfather and grandmother. It's me, your granddaughter Sara. And papa and my sister Becky are here, too."

She beckoned to me, and I joined her. The stone was still in excellent condition.

"Your grandfather also lived in India, once. Then he moved back here and married your grandmother," said daddy.

"I wish we could have known them, Becky." said Sara. "But they died before I was born."

"Indeed, much too early. Father went first, then mother not much long after."

He proceeded to lay flowers on three other small graves.

"Who are they, daddy?" I asked.

"My brother and sisters. I was the only one who survived."

We read the headstones in silence. Richard, Mary, and Sara all died before their tenth birthdays.

"I named you after my sister Sara. She was the kindest, smartest girl in the world."

He knelt down and wrapped his strong arms around us.

"You are all I have now."

He pulled us close and gave us each a kiss on the cheek. I thought of what my life was like before, when I was all alone in the world. When we arose to depart, we saw the bishop glaring at us from his window, but we did not care. As we walked away, I looked back and thought of my mother and my adopted family, and somehow felt loathe to leave.

Sara tugged at me. "They'll always be with us, Becky."

I looked up at daddy, who smiled and nodded.

"We won't forget them."

I took one last look and walked on, awaiting my next destination--India.


End file.
